Tag Archives: sherlock holmes

Bookshelf Battle Cast – Ep. 004 – “The Hound of the Baskervilles” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – Chapter 1 – “Mr. Sherlock Holmes”

BQB almost missed podcasting this month because he was enjoying a vacation in sunny Orlando, Florida, hobnobbing with Mickey Mouse and eating pineapples under palm trees and such.

But he came back just in time to entertain his 3.5 listeners.

Here, the world renowned poindexter reads the first chapter of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s work, “The Hound of the Baskervilles.”

Who would think that a simple stick left in a waiting room would lead to so many deductions?  We learn Holmes’ investigatory process, namely, how he can observe an item and find details and information everywhere, where others would not notice anything.  Simple little clues about the stick tell Holmes so much about its owner.

Watson believes he has received a compliment from Holmes, i.e. that the great investigator has applauded the good doctor’s observations about the stick but rather, as the chapter moves on, we learn that Holmes says that Watson is not a genius, he is not a source of light but rather, a “conductor of light.”

So…that’s a really nice way of telling Holmes that he was wrong but by being so wrong he helped Holmes figure out what was right.

Talk about backhanded compliments.

https://soundcloud.com/user-957435932/ep-004-the-hound-of-the-baskervilles-by-sir-arthur-conan-doyle-chapter-1

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

Bookshelf Q. Battler and the Meaning of Life – Part 19 – Is VGRF for Real?

PREVIOUSLY ON BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE…

READ

AND NOW BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE CONTINUES…

“She’s insane,” I said to the world’s greatest detective as he stepped out of my carry on bag and onto my tray table.

“Poppycock!” Holmes said. “She is a Video Game Rack Fighter! You are a Bookshelf Battler! You two were meant to be!”

Holmes suspects Vicky's on the level, that she is, in fact, a Video Game Rack Fighter...

Holmes suspects Vicky’s on the level, that she is, in fact, a Video Game Rack Fighter…

“I KNOW I am a Bookshelf Battler, but I only have her word that she’s a Video Game Rack Fighter,” I replied. “Carrying around beloved video game characters Carmine and Giuseppe in her purse? Please.”

“Might I remind you that you are carrying two of the fiction world’s foremost investigators in your carry on bag?” Holmes asked.

Watson popped out of my bag and started in on me.

“Mr. Bookshelf,” Watson said. “Your magical bookshelf is truly an awe inspiring mystery. But it never once occurred to you that there may be other enchanted media storage spaces out there?”

“Never crossed my mind,” I said.

“There’s only one way to solve this,” Holmes said as he leaped across the divide between my table and Vicky’s, then climbed into her open purse.

I looked over at Vicky. She was fast asleep. Her mouth was wide open, a little drop of drool pouring out the side. She was a light snorer. It was adorable. I had it bad.

“What are you doing?!” I asked.

“I shall simply locate the Sterotypical Italian Contractors and if they are real then Ms. Stratenhaus is telling the truth!”

“You can’t just go through her purse!” I said.

“Don’t worry!” Holmes said. “I am a detective!”

Holmes rumbled around inside the bag, then huffed and puffed as he struggled to pull out a very small, stiff and silent Carmine, only to drop him on the table in a haphazard manner.

“Careful Holmes!” Watson said. “You’ll give him a concussion!”

“You there!” Holmes said as he poked the tiny Carmine in the shoulder. “Borderline racist stereotype of an Italian contractor! Wake up, sir! You are among friends and no harm shall come of you!”

Carmine just laid there silently with a blank look on his face and a big smile.  He wore his trademark overalls and ball cap.  His face was mostly obscured by a big bushy beard.

“Are you deaf, man?” Holmes asked. “Wake up, I say!”

Watson jumped over to Vicky’s table, produced a tiny rubber mallet from his pocket, and lightly tapped Carmine’s knee with it. The most beloved video game character of all time refused to budge.

“Curious,” Watson said. “Either he’s quite adept at playing dead or he has terrible reflexes.”

“Put him back before she wakes up!” I said.

Holmes and Watson heaved Carmine back into Vicky’s bag, then returned to my tray table.

...BQB, on the other hand, opines that Vicky is one cart short of a full deck.  If he's the only one with a magic media storage space, then Vicky must just be some kook who thinks her action figures are real...

…BQB, on the other hand, opines that Vicky is one card short of a full deck. If he’s the only one with a magic media storage space, then Vicky must just be some kook who thinks her action figures are real…

“See?” I asked. “She talks to toys. She’s nuts.”

“Inconclusive!” Holmes said.

“How is that inconclusive?” I asked. “You whipped out Carmine and he didn’t move at all.  He’s clearly just a toy.”

“We’ve all been examined by your Aunt hundreds of times,” Holmes said. “We remain perfectly still. You are the only human we’ve ever revealed our true natures to, and I’d imagine that Ms. Stratenhaus’ video game friends feel the same way towards her.”

“This is going to be a long flight,” I said.

“Precisely the reason why we should be watching Pootie Tang!

 Will BQB ever learn the meaning of life?  Is Vicky really a video game rack fighter or is she nutsy cuckoo?  

And will Holmes ever get to watch Pootie Tang?

Find out as BQB and the Meaning of Life continues…

Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler and the Meaning of Life 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

BQB and the Meaning of Life – Part 16 – Blandie All Over Again?

PREVIOUSLY ON BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE

Dead on the can.  Back to life in search of the meaning of life.

Read Parts 1-5 here.

BQB talks to his bookshelf characters.

Read Parts 6-13

BQB leaves on a jet plane to Pango Tango in search of the Great Guru.

Read Part 14

BQB learns he has a ridiculous amount in common with his new female acquaintance.  Also, we learn BQB’s real name.  What a bombshell.  The press have been calling nonstop.  Or is it nonstart?  Oh, and Holmes and Watson are stowaways.

Read Part 15

“What the hell are you two doing here?” I asked in a whisper to the pair of sleuths.

I let them out of the bag and they hopped out onto my tray table.

“I wonder if someone will make this character I’ve worked so hard on become a Pootie Tang fan.” – Thought that never crossed poor Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s mind

“Mr. Battler,”  Holmes said.  “You’re undertaking a dangerous journey, one that Watson and I had a hand in pushing you on.  We could not in good conscience allow you to go alone.”

The stewardess tapped me on the shoulder.  The detectives froze into position.

“Complimentary beverage sir?”

“Yes,”  I said.  “Generic brand cola please.”

She poured me one and then smiled at my stiff gumshoes.

“Cute toys,”  the stewardess said.  “You should really leave them in the box though.  That’s the only way they’ll appreciate in value.”

“That’s good to know,”  I said, hoping she’d move on.

“My son’s a big toy collector,”  the stewardess continued.  “Never plays with them.  Just keeps them in the boxes.”

“Doesn’t sound like much fun,”  I said.

“Not really,”  the stewardess said.  “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Can I get one for my neighbor?”  I asked.

“Sure.”  The stewardess poured another generic brand cola and set it on Vicky’s table.  She pushed her cart down the aisle.

Holmes and Watson gasped for air.

“You two didn’t think of that, did you?”  I asked.  “We’re in public, geniuses.  You’re going to be gasping for air every two seconds.”

“Forget that,”  Holmes said.  “Mr. Battler, do you realize you’re screwing the proverbial pooch with your new female friend?”

“Excuse me?”  I asked.

“Ms. Stratenhaus!”  Holmes said.  “You have so much in common with her it is bloody well uncanny!”

“I concur,”  Watson said.

“You both were interested in pie in the sky occupations,”  Holmes said.  “You and your desire to become a writer, her and her love of video game design.  You both sold out your dreams only to find mediocre positions at boring companies.  In fact, you both literally hold the same exact position at your respective places of business!”

“And you both have long, peculiar names,”  Watson said.

“Precisely!”  Holmes said.  “But other than your name, and a brief reference to wanting to be a writer, you have not shared with Ms. Stratenhaus the many similarities you share with her.  Tell her that you too quit your dream for a boring life and you now regret your decision!  Tell her that a woman left you under similar circumstances!  It will bring you both closer together!”

“I can’t do that,”  I said.  “It would be Blandie all over again.”

“Who?”  Watson asked.

“Ms. Bland Life Settler,”  Holmes said.  “Consult your copious notes, Watson.  Doing so will refresh your memory.”

Watson pulled out his notepad and flipped through the pages.

“Ahh yes!”  Watson said.  “The woman who broke Mr. Battler’s heart.”

In case you forgot about BQB's Ex-Girlfriend, Blandie

In case you forgot about BQB’s Ex-Girlfriend, Blandie

“There’s no mystery here,”  Holmes said as he paced about the tray.  “Mr. Battler poured his heart and soul out to Ms.Settler.  He told her about his hopes, his dreams, his fears, his aspirations.  He told her how he wanted to be a writer and rather than be loving and supportive, she turned around and used that fact against him, calling him an idle daydreamer before flying the proverbial coup.”

“She also made many assertions regarding his lack of prowess in the boudoir,”  Watson said as he looked over his notes.

“Read them, Watson,”  Holmes said as he chewed on the end of his pipe.

Total deja-vu.

“No,”  I said.  We’ve already been through this, dummies.   And put that pipe away.  You know how many laws you’ll break if you smoke on an international flight?”

“Good Lord,”  Holmes said as he tucked his pipe into his cloak.  “This highly regulated police state you live in, Mr. Battler.  It’s like Moriarty won.”

“Get back in the bag,”  I said.  “Vicky will be back any second and you guys can’t hold your breathe that long.”

My charges/pains in the butt complied and scurried into my bag just in time to avoid my new friend’s return.

“Aww!”  Vicky said.  “I love generic brand cola!”

“Me too,” I said. “I think it’s the extra generic-ness.”

“So, Ed!  Tell me, if you don’t like air travel, why are you on a plane?”

“Oh,” I said.  “You know.  Just business.”

“Going somewhere special?”  Vicky asked.

I coughed to clear my throat.

“Pango-Tango,”  I said.

Vicky raised a surprised eyebrow.

“I know,”  I said.  “The war going on there.  All over the news.  Kind of a stupid place to visit I guess.”

“No,”  Vicky said.  “Not at all!  I’m going there too!”

I didn’t even bother to ask, “Seriously?” 

I just nodded.

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?”  Vicky asked.

“I promise,”  I said.

“Pinky swear,”  Vicky said.

We locked pinky fingers.

“Because you know you’ll rot in eternal hellfire and damnation if you break a pinky swear,”  Vicky said.

I liked her.  She was quirky, like me. 

“So I hear,”  I said.

“I died a few days ago,”  Vicky said.

I couldn’t help myself.  “Seriously?”

“Seriously,”  Vicky replied.  “I…oh, I can’t tell you this story.  It’s so gross.”

“No judgments here,”  I said.

“I’m still surprised this was even scientifically possible,”  Victoria said.  “But I ate a concentrated hurricane in the form of a jelly donut.”

Find out how Vicky died after eating a concentrated hurricane in the form of a jelly donut on the next episode of BQB and the Meaning of Life!

Sherlock and angry woman images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

Copyright Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015.  (All Rights Reserved).  (With my usual apology to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

BQB and the Meaning of Life – Part 10 – Sell Out

PREVIOUSLY ON BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE…

BQB croaked on the can due to an explosion of lightning from his nether regions.  In death, he met Shakespeare, who urged him to seek out the meaning of life.  Mini versions of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson hop out of one of the mystery books on BQB’s magic shelf and offer their assistance.

READ PARTS 1-5

PART 6 – BQB wakes up in the hospital.

PART 7 – Characters apologize.

PART 8 – More characters check on BQB

PART 9 – Holmes offers to solve “The Case of the Missing Bookshelf Caretaker’s Testicles”

“You guys have two seconds to beat feat out of here before I swat you both with a rolled up newspaper,” I said.

Ignoring me, Holmes paced up and down my kitchen table.

Holmes is on the case.

Holmes is on the case.

“Take copious notes, Watson!”

Watson pulled out a notepad and a pen and proceeded to write down every word the great detective uttered.

“The victim?” Holmes said. “One Bookshelf Q. Battler…caretaker of a magic bookshelf upon which the inhabitants of various volumes of lore come to life and proceed to attack one another over limited shelf space.”

“Limited…shelf…space,” Watson repeated as he took the words down.

“The pilfered prize?” Holmes continued. “One pair of testicles.”

“That’s absurd Holmes,” Watson said. “Any novice medical student would tell you that Mr. Bookshelf would be in more pain than he is now if someone lobbed off his…”

“Spiritual testicles, Watson!” Holmes said. “I’m referring to that force, that drive, that blind ambition that we saw brewing in Bookshelf Q. Battler’s heart ten years ago. It was a fire burning bright in his belly that made him zealously pursue his dream of becoming a writer. Where, oh where, has that fire gone?”

“Just trying to eat my corn flakes here, guys,” I said.

Holmes smoked his pipe and appeared to be lost in thought. His eyes widened as he pointed at a picture hanging on the wall behind me.

“Aha!”

“What is it, Holmes?” Watson asked.

“By Jove, I’ve discovered a clue!” Sherlock said.

“Explain yourself, Holmes,” Watson said. “We’ll need detailed records for our files.”

Holmes picked up tempo as he paced back and forth.

“Ten years ago, our illustrious caretaker was a man full of great gusto! A man of vim and vigor!” Holmes said. “Remind us, Mr. Bookshelf, where did you work ten years ago?”

“The Encyclopedia Factory,” I replied.

“And you enjoyed your occupation as an Encyclopedia scribe, did you not?”

BQB once held an entry level position as a writer for the Encyclopedia Factory, but became a sell out and joined the business world.

BQB once held an entry level position as a writer for the Encyclopedia Factory, but became a sell out and joined the business world.

It was too early in the morning to be getting the third degree from a diminutive detective, but I complied.

“I loved it,” I said.

“Tell me man,” Holmes said, staring up at me through a magnifying glass. “Why?”

“My job was to write articles about all the great happenings of the world,” I said. “I loved to write. They paid me to do what I loved.”

“And yet you quit!” Holmes said. “Explain!”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Liar!” Holmes shouted, pointing an accusatory finger my way. “Fibber! Deceiver! You know why you quit the job that brought joy to your heart! Tell us! Tell us why!”

Flustered from the third degree, I choked on my corn flakes. I put down my spoon and raised my palms toward the little man, making the universal “back off” gesture.

“It just wasn’t working out,” I said.

“May I remind you that you are under oath?!” Holmes yelled.

“I’m not under oath,” I replied.

“He’s not under oath, Holmes,” Watson interjected.

“Isn’t it true that you quit the job you loved because of that woman right there?!” Holmes asked, pointing at a photo of a beautiful blonde haired, blue eyed goddess hanging on the wall behind me. “Didn’t you leave your beloved writing career because your ex-girlfriend, one Ms. Bland Life Settler, did not approve?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied.

“And why do you still keep her likeness hanging up on the wall?” Holmes asked. “Have some dignity, man! It’s been a decade since she cast you aside like a barrel of stale figgy pudding!”

“Quite right,” Watson added. “Not to interfere in your affairs, Mr. Bookshelf, but to keep her picture is a tad unhealthy.”

“Guys, I’m reaching my limit here,” I said.

“Watson!” Holmes said. “Take us back ten years ago! Take us all the way back to the day when Mr. Bookshelf’s old flame ripped out his heart and pierced it with a stiletto heel tip!”

“One moment,” Watson said. The doctor licked his finger tips and thumbed through the pages of his notebook. “I’ll find it.”

“You guys have notes about stuff that happened to me ten years ago?” I asked.

“I make Watson keep notes of all activities that transpire in this residence!” Holmes proclaimed. “One never knows when the most seemingly insignificant detail might evolve into a case cracking clue!”

“Ah!” Watson said. “I’ve found it!”

“Read it back to us, Watson.”

“Indubitably, Holmes,” Watson replied.

Feeling defeated, I rested my chin in the palms of my hands as I listened to the voice of a tiny British doctor rehashing one of the worst days of my life.

“In the year of our lord, two-thousand and five at precisely ten o’clock in the evening. Present one Mr. Bookshelf Q. Battler. Present one Ms. Bland Life Settler.”

“OK Sherlock,” I said. “I get the point.”

“Read on, Watson!”

Statement from Bookshelf Q. Battler: No, baby, please, please do not leave me.

Reply from Ms. Settler – I am tired of wasting my life on a loser like you, BQB! I am not going to spend one more minute with a man who lives in a fantasy world! What kind of a man sits around reading books and writing stories all day? I want a real man! A doer! A provider!  A man who doesn’t day dream all the time with his head stuck in the clouds! We’re through!

BQB's ex-girlfriend, Blandie.  Actual photo he keeps hanging on his wall in the Bookshelf Battle Compound.

BQB’s ex-girlfriend, Blandie. Actual photo he keeps hanging on his wall in the Bookshelf Battle Compound.

I’d tried so hard to forgot those words, and yet there he was, a miniscule physician reading them back to me with perfect British pronunciation.

“And then Ms. Settler goes on to denigrate Mr. Bookshelf’s skills in the boudoir and so on,” Watson said.

“Read on, Watson!” Holmes said. “We need a full picture of the puzzle at hand!”

“No!” I said. “No. Fine. You got me. I quit my job as a writer at the Encyclopedia Factory because of her.”

“A confession!” Holmes said. “Splendid!”

“It was the right thing to do,” I said. “I enjoyed the job, but it paid hardly anything. I was barely scraping by.”

“And so what did you do next?” Holmes asked.

“I went to business school,” I said. “Got an MBA. Got an executive level job.”

“Really?” Holmes asked. “You really refer to what you do as ‘executive level?’”

“I’m an assistant,” I said.

Holmes glared at me with great disapproval.

“Fine,” I said. “I’m an assistant to the assistant of the vice-president in charge of corporate assistance at Beige Corp, the world’s premiere producer of beige colored products and accessories.”

“And this position pays?” Holmes inquired.

“About fifty cents more an hour than what I made at the Encyclopedia Factory,” I said.

“Where you were happy,” Holmes pointed out.

“Yes,” I replied.

“And you were at least working as a paid writer, or in other words, working in the industry you actually longed to be a part of?” Holmes asked.

“Yes.”

“And you gave that up on the theory that entering the business world turn you into a man of great wealth, one who could perhaps one day win back the heart of Ms. Bland Life Settler?”

“Maybe…”

“Speak the truth, man!”

“Yes,” I replied.

“So to recap,” Holmes said. “You gave up a dream you held in your heart to pursue an occupation you hold little interest in on the pretense that doing so would turn you into a man of great means and then you would convince a woman who broke your heart to love you again?”

A voice from the other side of the table startled me. Completely unnoticed, The Incorrigible Monroe had managed to make his way onto the kitchen table. He was nibbling on a cornflake he’d snatched from my bowl and reading the newspaper that he was sitting on.

“I don’t know what these gum shoes are going on about, Young Duffer,” Monroe said. “That plan sound’s like the cat’s pajamas to yours truly.”

Umm…BQB?  Ten posts in and you’ve left to leave the compound?  Oh well, check back next time on BQB and the Meaning of Life!

Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015.  All Rights Reserved.  

(I’m sorry, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  I’m really sorry.)

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

BQB and the Meaning of Life – Part 9 – The Game is Afoot!

PREVIOUSLY ON BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE…

BQB dies, is told he needs to seek the meaning of life, and returns to the land of the living.

READ PARTS 1-5

PART 6 – BQB wakes up in the hospital.  Dr. Goetleib lost the bet.

PART 7 – Two characters apologize for their tomfoolery.

PART 8 – BQB thinks about calling on Joel LL Torrow’s pimp hand.

Corn flakes. They weren’t gooey. They weren’t fruity. They weren’t warm. They just sat there like a boring pile of mush, a grim reminder of what my life had become.

Three days had passed since the “lightning strike.” I sat in my kitchen, propped up on my butt donut, eating an unremarkable breakfast. I was too scared to even look at another toaster pastry.

From the stairwell, I heard some dog barks, followed by two distinctly British voices.

“Step lively, canine!” one of the voices yelled. “The game is afoot!”

Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's infamous detective.

Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s infamous detective.

“Holmes, I don’t believe that Mr. Bookshelf wishes to be disturbed,” the other voice said. “It is my opinion as a professional physician that he needs to rest.”

“Nonsense, Watson!” the first voice said. “Trying times such as these are when our assistance is needed the most!”

I ate a spoonful of corn flakes and watched as my pet, the aptly named Bookshelf Q. Battle Dog, trotted into the kitchen. Riding on his back were none other than notorious super sleuth Sherlock Holmes and his colleague, the wise and knowledgeable Dr. John Watson. (Tiny versions of their literary selves, obviously).

Among his many duties, Bookshelf Q. Battle Dog was the head of Bookshelf Battle Headquarters Security. He was one of those little yippy purse dogs, so he was more than qualified to bark his head off whenever a visitor came a-calling.

He jumped up onto the chair next to me, dropped his passengers off onto the table, then took a nap on the chair.

“Bookshelf Q. Battler!” Holmes said. “How are you man?”

“Oh,” I said. “For a guy who recently launched a lightning bolt out of my nether regions, I can’t complain.”

Dr. Watson in his younger days, before he grew a stache.

Dr. Watson in his younger days, before he grew a mustache.

Watson stroked his chin and stared at me.

“Signs of lethargy,” the good doctor said. “Depression. An intense pallor of ennui. I stand corrected, Holmes. You were right. The caretaker of our bookshelf requires assistance posthaste.”

“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Sherlock said. “Elementary.”

Holmes wore a cloak and one of those odd hats, you know, the ones that look like two baseball caps sewn together back to back. Watson had a handlebar mustache, a bowler hat, and wore a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows.

“You know guys,” I said. “I get that I’m saddled with the burden of taking care of a bunch of small book characters for the rest of my life, but I’d really appreciate it if you all would make an effort to not get in my face before I’ve had my morning coffee.”

Holmes puffed on a pipe, blew a few smoke rings, then raised a triumphant finger in the air.

“Watson!”

“Yes Holmes?”

“We’ve defeated Professor Moriarty, haven’t we?” the world’s greatest detective asked.

“Indeed, Holmes.”

“Colonel Moran?” Holmes asked.

“Most assuredly.”

“We solved the case of the Hound of the Baskervilles?”

“A most troublesome caper,” Watson replied. “But we certainly did solve it.”

“How many times have we saved Old Brittania from certain ruin at the hands of various and sundry villainous masterminds?” Holmes asked.

“More times than this old sawbones can count, Holmes,” Watson said.

“And yet, with my powers of deduction, I do postulate that we will now solve the most inscrutable, most diabolical, most grueling case we have heretofore ever encountered!”

“What is it, Holmes?”

Holmes spun around and looked directly up at me through the lens of his magnifying glass.

“The Case of the Missing Bookshelf Caretaker’s Testicles!”

Will Holmes and Watson discover what happened to BQB’s testicles?  Return to bookshelfbattle.com for the next installment of this epic tale to find out!

Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015.  All Rights Reserved. 

Fun fact – As reported in Variety and other news sources, Sherlock Holmes is so old that he’s in the public domain!  That means he can be used anywhere and I’m sure Sir Arthur Conan Doyle would be doing backflips in his grave if he were to ever learn about his appearance on this blog.

Even so, while Holmes and Watson may belong to the ages now, we’ll never forget that he is Sir Arthur’s legendary creation.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Advertisements